Finally on Sunday morning, October 7, 1849, "He became quiet and seemed to rest for a short time. Then, gently, moving his head," he said, "Lord help my poor soul." As he had lived so he died-in great misery and tragedy.
The power of memories and expectations is such that for most human beings, the past and the future are not as real, but rather more real than the present.
Fear reaches only to the point where the unavoidable begins; from there on, it loses its meaning. And all we have left is the hope that we are making the right decision.
The Life we have is very great.
The Life that we shall see
Surpasses it, we know, because
It is Infinity,
But when all Space has been beheld
And all Dominion shown
The smallest Human Heart's extent
Reduces it to none.